


When We Had The Sky

by EuphoniousGlow



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-07-20
Updated: 2011-03-06
Packaged: 2017-10-10 17:02:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 13,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/102050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EuphoniousGlow/pseuds/EuphoniousGlow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kingdom Hearts short fiction. Multiple pairings and characters. Most were written for the kh_drabble community on Livejournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Angels with tattered wings

Apologies

**i. Not Enough**

The boy's strong-willed green eyes turned glassy as her pencil moved across the paper. His pale skin and blank expression were reminiscent of a doll's, and she felt a sick stab of shame at manipulating this fragile puppet-boy, even though she had no choice. He had an identity, as thin and precarious as it was, a personality all his own that was distinct from the other Riku's. 

Then, slowly, like fog fading from a pane of glass, the awareness crept back into his eyes, which fixed upon her with startling, open fondness.

"Naminé," he whispered, and knelt down on one knee before her chair. "I will always protect you, as I've promised." She couldn't meet his eyes. She knew her own identity was false, but even so, she was different from Kairi. She had her own memories. He would not even have that, now. 

She did not say "I'm sorry." It would have been no use.

 

**ii. Strangers**

Sometimes, Sora wondered about the boy who was the other part of him. There were thoughts that crept into his mind that were not his, memories he was certain he'd never had. Emotions he couldn't explain. Disturbing moments where he felt a stranger in his own skin, waking disoriented from a half-remembered dream. He'd slept for so long, and even now there were pieces that he couldn't fit into place, things missing that shouldn't have been.

All he had was a name and a brief encounter that didn't begin to explain anything. Roxas. Golden hair and blue eyes, a face so much like his own. He'd needed Roxas to become whole, that was what Riku had said. Roxas was never meant to exist. But Sora wondered if it was right to take away the life that Roxas had, as illusory as it had been, for his own. 

He was probably being stupid. After all, if he hadn't awoken, then he would not have been able to stop the Organization. Still, there were times when he looked in the mirror and was aware of someone else looking through his eyes. And he knew it was not supposed to work this way. Together, they would be whole. This duality of existence was not what anyone had expected, and neither had any say in the matter. 

Maybe, eventually, he would tell Kairi and Riku. 

Sora looked at his eyes in the mirror, once more. "I'm sorry," he said. Whether he meant it for Roxas, or for Riku and Kairi, he did not know.

 


	2. Eloquence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by the reports in KHII that said Ienzo had convinced Ansem the Wise to begin the experiments. Now this is AU due to details released in Birth By Sleep.

They sent the youngest, because he could do with words what the others could only do with science and weapons. The tools their teacher had given them they were not so willing to part with. The process was more interesting than the expected result of their experiment. He thought perhaps there would be no end, that they had spent the past five years snatching at shadows. He thought he liked it better that way. Ansem the Wise was already suspicious of his apprentices, and all Ienzo had to do was confirm them, feign a little discomfort and anxiety. He wove together pretty words and sincere gestures as he stood politely in front of the other man, looking down at his shoes as he smiled behind his hair. Ansem was tired, strain showing in the lines of his brow and the wrinkles around his mouth, and Ienzo was a very good liar. The other five were restless, who knew what they might do, Ienzo was scared. And Ansem believed him. 

Ienzo had spent the last five years crafting his façade. Being pretty had its advantages. No one could distrust him, because he seemed so reasonable, so polite, a logical and shy man. But the truth was he just liked to see things fall apart. It was terribly good fun.

Ansem's desk was scattered with papers, books, an empty coffee cup. A portrait of Xehanort hung on the wall, crooked. It was disgusting. Ansem let out a long breath and ran his hand through his hair. Ienzo let his mouth curve into a smirk as he looked at the man. Ansem had made a terrible mistake. He let himself show weakness in front of others, let his emotions rule his features, let his thoughts write themselves across his eyelids. Ienzo had learned long ago had to shut himself inside, so no glance or misplaced word betrayed him. Once, he had admired Ansem, respected him. Now he saw him for the pathetic being he was. Ansem thought he was the one in control, because he was allowed the title of "Master" and they were not. But he was wrong. For several years, his apprentices had been uprooting him, slowly and without even realizing it themselves. 

Even Ansem the Wise eventually had to break. Ienzo left the room, with Ansem's approval that they could begin the experiment.

Ienzo knew he was walking into madness. He wanted to laugh hysterically, but all he could do was smile.


	3. Scraps

She ran gentle fingers over blank pages eager to be made into something beautiful. The components of her memory book lay neatly on the table, and she would occassionally lift her eyes from her work to reach for the scissors with glue-stained hands. A box beside her contained all of the most precious ingredients: a yellow ribbon from a balloon Roxas had given her--

_"Can I have two, please?" the young blond said, handing over the gil and receiving two balloons. He gave the yellow one to Olette, who tied the end of the ribbon around her finger so she wouldn't lose it, and kept the blue one for himself. As thanks Olette bought cotton candy, and they licked the sweetness off her lips as they enjoyed the end of summer festival. Olette cheered as Roxas won a few prizes from the festival games, including a plastic barrette which he hurriedly gave to her._

\--a wooden stick left over from Pence's favorite ice cream--

_Sweat stuck uncomfortably to her neck as the sun beat down, hot and unyielding. It was the hottest summer she remembered, and all she had really wanted to do was sit inside in the air conditioning and read, but Pence had showed up at her door bearing two sea salt ice creams and a big smile. _

_"Don't sit inside all day," he said, waving the dripping ice cream in front of her. "It's beautiful outside."_

_"It's too hot," she said, but followed him anyway. They walked beneath an eggshell-blue sky, lazy and quiet as children and dogs ran past. They reached the plaza in front of the train station and leaned against the fence. The city spread out below them like spun gold, fading into rolling green hills. _

_"Hey, Olette?" Pence asked after a moment. She turned, and watched the ice cream drip down his hand. He didn't seem to notice. He met her eyes and finally noticed the cold liquid splashing onto his shoes. He spent the next few minutes trying to clean up the puddle, and when she asked him what he was going to say, he just replied, "Nothing."_

\--a token Hayner had won in a game of cards.

_"That's not a king, you idiot, that's a jack!" Seifer said as he squinted at the cards Raijin had placed on the table. It had been, surprisingly, his idea to play cards that night, although there was only one small lightbulb in the usual spot to see with. Hayner sat hunched over his hand, frowning thoughtfully. Roxas was next to him, scratching the back of his head in puzzlement as he considered his own cards. Pence was concentrating on the table, muttering something that sounded like, "...two Aces, then I'll..." Olette's gaze met Fuu's, who simply glared, and then sighed and looked down at the cards in her hand. She didn't have anything worthwhile that would help, although she could tell by Hayner's expression that he had something up his sleeve._

_Seifer tossed a few cards onto the table. _

_"Full Station," he said smugly, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. Hayner bit his lip, nervously appraising his hand. He had only two cards left, and it didn't seem like they were good ones. But Olette wasn't fooled._

_"VICTOR," Fuu said sharply, making everyone flinch. _

_"Looks like no one can beat me," Seifer said, reaching for the small pile of gil and trinkets in the pot. _

_Slowly, a grin spread across Hayner's face. He raised the cards for everyone to see. Twilight Double. An instant win for the one to play it._

_"Fooled ya."_

_When the fun was over and Hayner had collected his prize, and Seifer's posse had departed after calling him a number of unsavory names, Olette decided to head home. It was getting late, and she really wanted to start on her summer reading. _

_"Hey, Olette! Wait up!" Hayner called, catching up to her. He handed her the token. _

_"You beat Fuu with that Sunset Double; you should get her prize. His brown eyes were strangely serious as he handed it over to her. She smiled as she thanked him._

None were more special than the others, because each one told a unique and different story.

The pages were not looking so empty now; little reminisces lay in white pools of glue, and the scent of paper and art permeated the air. 

But something was missing. Out of the box she pulled a packed of photographs, slightly crinkled on the edges but clear. Each moment was captured in a camera lens, irretrievable and precious. She glued the photographs of the gang--Hayner, Roxas, Pence, Olette--next to the other pieces. 

She stopped and considered her work. She smiled at the countless memories caught in the pages of the scrapbook. But it still needed a title. She took an orange marker and wrote the name in neat, looping letters across the top of the first page: "Memories."

The next day, Olette woke up shaking, a strange and unexplainable feeling of loss in her chest. When she opened the scrapbook again that morning, she found some pages blank. Something wasn't right. There was a distinct lack of blue.


	4. Give Up The Sky

It was all wrong. The dark keyblade felt insubstantial in his hands, much different than the solid, reassuring weight of the Kingdom Key. This was not a weapon meant for defense, or for heroism. Its blade was wicked and black and he could feel the will of it to cut, to kill.

It felt like Riku, and that unsettled him. If his own keyblade was used for justice and goodness, then this dark thing showed him how much Riku had fallen. For a long time, Sora hadn't wanted to believe it. He refused to see the hurt anger in his best friend's eyes, the blame and resentment that lay there. Here was the proof, in his hands.

His grip on the handle tightened. The greatest people in the world, the ones he loved so much, depended on him now. Kairi lay in sleep, her motionless body so different than her normal energy and movement. Her face was quiet and expressionless. He wanted to see her smile again, look at him with those peculiar colored eyes and tease him like she always did.

And most of all, he wanted Riku back. He wanted them to fight with wooden swords that would break if they weren't careful, and then no matter who won they'd laugh and it wouldn't mean anything.

Not like this, not with Riku and that scary look on his face that said this wasn't a game anymore.

He could handle all of it, fighting the Heartless that just kept on coming no matter how many times his keyblade tore through their shadowy bodies. He could handle his island being destroyed, not knowing what happened to his parents.

But none of it would matter if he didn't have his friends. Even though Kairi had come later, he thought of her like the sister he had never had, never caring about whether she got dirty or that playing with boys was dumb. They were three, and one couldn't exist without the others.

Now he had to save them. He would find Riku in the dark, and wake Kairi and defeat Ansem, and they would all go back home, together.

Or if that was impossible, he would at least make sure they would be all right. Perhaps Kairi could save Riku if he could not.

He smiled, looked at Donald and Goody as if to say Don't worry, you'll be fine without me, and turned the blade on his own heart.


	5. Footprints in the Sand

In her dream, she sees the sky. There is laughter and motion. The sun burns her skin, and she runs to the water, its icy foam splashing around her. She tastes salt on her tongue and smells it on the light breeze. A boy's voice calls her name, and she turns to greet him. Her dress is wet, but she doesn't care. Two boys are waving to her, one with messy brown hair and eyes like a summer sky, the other with silver hair that covers his eyes, and something restless about his stance. The boys exchange a glance and start running, and as she hurries to follow them, bare feet leaving trails in the sand, she calls after them.

_Don't leave me behind!_ she says. When they reach the hut that the three of them had built, they break out in laughter and collapse together on the sand, faces gleaming with sweat and happiness. Then the brown-haired boy looks at her, his face suddenly serious. _We would never forget you, Kairi,_ he says. And she knows it is true.

In her dream, her name is Kairi. But then she wakes up, and it is not the sunny beautiful island she sees, but the walls of her white prison. The laughter of children has never warmed those cold halls, and she has never seen the sky. Only Sora's memories give her an escape, and she hopes that, someday, she will be able to thank him. She doesn't tell Marluxia what she sees, because he would tell her that Nobodies cannot dream. But they desire their hearts again, and isn't wishing also a kind of dream?

She turns to a fresh sheet in her notepad and begins to draw. She must capture those memories before she forgets, before she makes him forget.


	6. Curiouser and Curiouser

The mission briefing called the place Wonderland. Axel was not the type to admire scenery, but even he had to stop and take a moment to get his bearings. Falling an indeterminate distance down a rabbit hole will do that to a person, and he wondered if drinking that potion had been the right thing to do. He could practically hear IV lecturing about "the dangers of unknown substances." He wondered what Vexen would make of this world, where nothing seemed to happen the way it was supposed to.

Axel smirked and turned his attention to the mission at hand. "Bring me the heart of the Red Queen," Xemnas had said. Axel gave his Assassin minions the instructions and sent them to find the way to the Royal Castle. He would take the heart from the Queen himself.

The path turned into a thick forest. Fields of flowers bordered the entrance, and as he passed he could have sworn a group of poppies was watching his steps.

The air didn't feel right, but Axel wasn't worried. He looked forward to what the unknown had to offer. Suddenly he heard a voice from the tree tops.

"Are you lost, or are you found?" Axel looked up to see a large Cat sitting on the tree above him. He'd seen enough of strange things and worlds where animals weren't what they seemed that he wasn't surprised. 

"Who are you?" he asked, though he knew the question would do no good. The Cat grinned, and Axel realized just what a strange place this was.

"I am only a Cheshire Cat, or whatever word you want to call me," the Cat said, its round yellow eyes fixed on the man's face. "It's you I'm more curious about. You aren't a man, yet you look like one." Its teeth looked sharp, but Axel knew it was no threat.

"I am VIII," Axel said. He'd heard of the intelligence of cats, but its comment had unsettled him. 

The cat looked at one of its paws in what Axel supposed was boredom. "The world must have gone mad," it said. "Creatures who look like men and smell like nothing, who think they're numbers." Its grin widened further, as if it had just told a joke. 

"I think you're the mad one," Axel said, with a grin to mirror the Cat's.

"Oh, we're all mad here," the Cat replied with a flick of its tail. "But I like you. You're madder than most I've talked to. That silly girl was completely in over her head, I'm afraid, and the Queen is another matter entirely..." For some inexplicable reason the Cat had begun to vanish, and only its head was left before Axel realized what it had said. Its powers of disappearing were too much like his own.

"The Queen is who I am looking for. Tell me how to find her." 

"I fancy a game of croquet," it said, and only its grin remained. "Best look for me there, in her courtyard." And then it was gone.

_Well,_ Axel thought, watching the place where the Cat had vanished. _It looks like I'm going to be interrupting a very important game._


	7. Falling Stars

It was cold. Cold enough a man might think he'd never have children. Not that he wanted any of those. As he walked back to his shop, he noticed a boy standing outside, looking at the sign. Not that kids were anything unusual in that place, but something about the boy seemed odd. Maybe it was his hair, the kind of metallic shade he'd only seen once before. And those weren't memories he was too fond of.

The boy was in his way. "Hey, kid." The silver-haired boy turned to look at him. His gaze was hard, and the look in them seemed so much older than the face they belonged to. Cid felt a chill run down his spine, and it had nothing to do with the wind.

"Are you just going to stand there like a moron, or come inside where you won't freeze yer nuts off?"

"I'm fine," the boy said, but he had no coat and his cheeks were red. He must be used to the weather around here, Cid thought.

"Does your brain have frostbite too?" Cid muttered, grabbing the boy's sleeve with one hand and unlocking the shop door with the other. "Honestly. Think ya live on a tropical island or somethin'." 

"Wait--I'm just looking for someone, I don't need--" Cid ignored the boy's protests as he took off his coat. He opened a door behind the counter, leading his unwilling visitor into a small room that contained a stove, a sink, some cabinets, and rough wooden table with mismatched chairs. He started to rummage noisily through one of the cabinets. The boy turned to walk back out of the door, but a forceful "SIDDOWN" caused him to plop gracelessly and reluctantly into a chair. 

With a muttered word of triumph, Cid pulled out a teapot. "What kind ya want? Green? Black? Cinnamon? Whipped cream with cherries on top?"

The boy sighed. "I don't care. I don't have time for this."

"Look, kid. I don't care what you were doing outside my shop (though if you were thinkin' about stealin' anything, I have to warn you, the puffballs upstairs put in quite a security system). I don't care what your name is or where you're from. Or where you're goin'." He looked at the boy, whose blue-green eyes were uncomfortably familiar. "But I'm not going to let some brat turn into a popsicle 'cause he has no common sense."

The boy looked down at the tea that Cid gave him, in a surprisingly clean mug. He put his hands around it, feeling the sensation come back into them.

"I'm not used to this. It was always warm--" he trailed off, his face betraying a look of guilt and fear before becoming set and defiant. "I don't have a home to go back to. I just have something I have to do."

"Let me tell you, one day I used to have a dream. I wanted to be the first space pilot. Looking at the stars wasn't good enough for me--I wanted to fly to other worlds." The boy looked up, startled. 

"You ended up here, right?" asked the boy. 

"Everyone ends up in Traverse Town. Now I would give anything to have back what I had then. Dreams ain't much good for keeping ya warm, understand?"

"Yeah," said the boy, and Cid felt a name come to him, something he'd heard from another lost boy. "I think I'm starting to realize that."


	8. Heart of the Sea

Sora goes missing one day, and Kairi decides that, this time, she will be the one to save him. Her footsteps across the stars lead her to the sea-scented bayous and bogs of the pirate days, searching for her lost light. Her boat drifts through the fog, and she is mesmerized by the glimmering light of fireflies. Shadows flit by, half-seen shapes watching. She gathers her courage and asks their help. They tell her to seek the shamaness, that Tia Dalma will tell her the way.

The house is small and ramshackle, and as Kairi steps nervously inside she wonders if she has made a mistake. Various objects of witchery hang from the ceiling, dried snakeskins and bones, pickled salamander eyes in green jars. Kairi looks around, and for the first time since she has set out on her journey, she is afraid. 

Finally, a woman steps into view. Her eyes and face are dark, and she wears a tattered dress and silver locket.

"Are you Tia Dalma?" Kairi asks, and she finds the woman beautiful. 

"'Tis one of my names, though there are more," she replies, and her teeth are black as she smiles. "But who would seek my services?" She steps closer, eyes measuring, a slender hand upon her hip.

Kairi does not hesitate when she gives this strange woman her name. "I am looking for my friend, Sora," she explains. "He is the Keyblade master." She has little hope this woman's trickery can help her, but she has seen magic and miracles before. 

"Ah," Tia Dalma replies with a knowing smile. "The Keyblade bearer. I seen the darkness spread through this world, suck it dry like a plague. I was called upon to curse the dark creatures. They would try to take me heart, but ha! the heart of the sea cannot so easily be tamed." She touches the locket hanging around her neck with stained fingers.

"Can you help me?" Kairi looks into the woman's eyes, which are deep like earth and just as cool. Tia Dalma smiles and touches a lock of Kairi's hair. The girl feels her pulse quickening, wants to look away but cannot.

"I require payment," the shamaness whispers, her voice a musical lilting sound.

Kairi's mind goes blank. "What would you have me give?" 

Tia Dalma chuckles, and the sound is surprisingly innocent and girlish. She leans closer. Her breath smells of fish.

"You 'ave the sea in your eyes." Her hand touches Kairi's face, thumb stroking the pale skin of her neck. "I would have them burn with passion."

Kairi finds her voice, at last. "So you would use your voodoo to seduce me?" 

The look in the woman's face is unreadable. "They called me Calypso, once. The Heart of the Sea. They caught me and caged me in this frail, useless form. I see it in your face, girl. You too wish to be free."

The girl from Destiny Islands finds no words to say. She lets Tia Dalma kiss her, push her down on a ragged cot, and her lips taste like salt and ink and bones. And for a time she forgets about everything, as their bodies curl and intertwine in the throes of passion. She forgets about Sora and the darkness. She is free.


	9. Entropy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU as of the release of Birth By Sleep. I thought I had read that Lexaeus's Somebody's name was Elaeus, but now I realize it's Aeleus.

The Organization was a court of fools, and Lexaeus was no better than the rest. He had no motivation to take part in the absurdist play that Xemnas had created, but he was content to watch. In his silence, he learned much about his colleagues. Once, he was known as a silent and dependable biologist under Ansem the Wise's tutelege. Now he worked with soil and stone: shaping these elements to his own purposes. The earth was constant. No matter what battles raged across its surface, no matter how many times it was pounded and ravaged and poisoned, it persevered. It was always there, a silent witness of ages. A scientist's greatest attribute was observation, and Lexaeus found no greater subject of study than the fellow members of the Organization. He felt the discontent throughout the Castle walls, and knew that there could only be so much tension before the forces shifted and chaos remained. The greatest danger to the original six was not the neophytes, but themselves.

Xigbar did not appear to live in anything but the present. He seemed to follow his own path, yet was unshakingly loyal to the Superior. He took pleasure in pushing and shaping the rival forces that were already bubbling under the skin of the Organization, yet his motive in this, Lexaeus did not know. Number II rarely sought him out for conversation, though he was more social than most. Sometimes, however, Xigbar's laugh would fit in perfect harmony with that of Xaldin's, and something in the Second's posture showed that he missed what once was between him and the lancer. Their Others worked best in a pair, and often finished each other's sentences while giving reports to their king. The two men had taken no greater delight than making people laugh, though they wanted even more to amuse each other. They still had their secret jokes, but without the capacity to feel their laughter was false and empty. Xaldin, for his part, seemed to accept this, and the wall that had begun to grow between the two who were once friends could not be torn down too easily.

It was easy for Vexen to get lost in his work. He was obsessive about whatever project currently had his attention, though Lexaeus noticed that when it came to anything else, he was frantic and impatient. The kind of man who was wired with hectic energy. There was a time when his single-minded dedication to science cost him almost everything in his life. After his wife left, Even had become even more determined to uncover the mystery of the darkness. He rarely spoke about the time before, but there were moments when his eyes were distant, and the lines grew deeper around the edges of his face. Something drove Vexen beyond the goal of having a heart again. Perhaps he was looking for whatever shred of humanity was left. His voice could not hide the bitterness, in the rare moments he spoke of their time as apprentices; for this reason he was like ice.

The youngest of the original six was the most shrouded in his thoughts, and yet Lexaeus believed he understood Zexion the best. He remembered the first day Ienzo joined the staff of Ansem's research team. There were rumors of his brilliance, reports of his position as top of the class at an esteemed university. At first they had doubted what a student of philosophy and neuroscience could add to their group, but they quickly learned that Ienzo had a quick wit and talent for solving puzzles. It was often he who suggested alternative hypotheses for Even's experiments when his tests failed, and they soon learned that he was also a cultured conversationalist and had a sharp sense of humor. Elaeus found himself enjoying the younger man's company, and the two spent many lunch breaks discussing literature and pyschological theories. As the apprentices pushed the boundaries of ethics further and further, it was often Ienzo who urged them to keep going, to bring their work to its inevitable conclusion. Elaeus had been disconcerted by the darkness lurking beyond Ienzo's calculating eyes and knowing smile, but had gone along willingly because he too liked nothing better than success. Now that they had discovered the consequences of pushing the boundaries too far, Lexaeus understood Zexion even better, and knew the man had no regrets. Though they made odd companions, he liked Six's presence, and their language developed beyond the limits of words. And yet Zexion had also lost much. As he had become even more enamored with the shadow world, he became closed off to his closely knit family. As the youngest of eight children, Ienzo had felt pressured by his brothers and sisters, and was shaken into near muteness by the death of his mother and beloved twin sister. His father was not the kind to express love, and Ienzo grew jaded and threw himself into study, learning to see people as puppets who could be manipulated rather than feeling beings of flesh and blood.

It was Ienzo who drove them to the edge, yet they were all a part of what happened. They all had to step off the edge of reason into the darkness. There was no going back now. They had made their choices, and would suffer the torment of living without hearts. Never dying of sickness or old age. Never knowing what it would be like to love or dream or know passion. Their efforts were in vain, as Xemnas was surely aware. Yet still they planned and forged alliances, gaining some small satisfaction from the destruction of others. But watching the dreams of others crash to the ground was worth no real comfort when they were dead inside. Lexaeus knew that the only reason they hadn't broken apart was because they were all too afraid to be alone. At least they could suffer together, and pretend everything would turn out all right in the end.

He could only wait and see, patient as the earth was old. In time, all great cities were overcome by wild things and green roots, and life would begin again. For the Nobodies, trapped between darkness and light, they could only wait for the inevitable triumph of chaos. And then, nothing.


	10. Face the Sky

"You were never meant to exist," she said, her eyes showing him her regret. She said it so casually, as if he was a sculpture that an artist decided was a mistake, breaking the stone apart to begin anew. But in her pale blue eyes, he saw that she understood. She, too, was an imposter, a puppet. Like the figures on the white sheets hung up in that white room, and his eyes were drawn to the color, though it was disturbing how like his dreams they were.

"Can you feel Sora?" the black-coated man had asked, and his voice blamed Roxas. For being alive, for being awake while Sora slept. And there was nothing he could say. DiZ and Ansem, hiding their faces from the world--they were living a lie too. 

The man called Axel had offered him a promise, had not treated him as though he was anything else. But he too was only a shadow, and he only offered a false hope, a selfish dream of the past. The way it once was. But he had no need for fate, and destiny cared little for nobodies.

He wanted sandy beaches and sunsets over green hills, sea-salt ice cream and long train rides. He wanted to play-fight with Hayner, talk about science fiction with Pence, get bullied by Seifer, get bossed into doing his homework by Olette, and maybe, someday, tell Fuu of his feelings for her.

But he wasn't supposed to feel.

He wasn't supposed to exist. And even though his past was a false one, his friendship a work of fiction, he didn't think it meant anything less. He wished the dreams would stop and the red-cloaked man would disappear to the hell he came from. He wished Namine would stop looking at him with those sad, sad eyes. He wished, he dreamed, for nothing.

He only wanted to enjoy his summer vacation.


	11. Without Words

Sora stopped trying to find a word for what he and Riku had. They were best friends--that had always been, since the day he threw sand in Riku's face when he was three, and would never change--and there were times, when the storm clouds gathered outside his window and he found himself looking across the water to the island where they used to play, that he knew he wouldn't have gotten far without Riku. The boy who always seemed to know what he needed most, whether a pat on the shoulder in encouragement or a punch to say _What are you doing?_

And they were once rivals, playing their games like naive island children always do, racing and swimming and laughing with Kairi cheering them on. She was still rooting for them, but in a different way now.

There were plenty of things he tried not to think about, after returning to the islands, thoughts and feelings and images that kept surfacing in his mind. But after a while he started to notice: the way his gut seemed to drop as though he was falling from the tops of the coconut trees, the way his gaze lingered, in ways it shouldn't. And what was once a clean label of "best friend" suddenly blurred to "bestfriend-rival-somethingelseentirely" Riku.

Sora was not very good with words. His comfort was in feeling, in _knowing_. He and Riku had always been able to understand each other with other means of communication.

So he never had to tell Riku how he felt. A look and a kiss, and Riku understood his message perfectly.


	12. The Nature of Ice

_"Nothing--how can it be for science anything but a horror and a phantasm?"_

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
For as long as he could remember, Even loved to experiment. He had an insatiable curiosity about the world around him, the way all the pieces fit together and created a self-sufficient, organic machine. He felt that he wanted to understand everything. Once he trapped a firefly in a jar and observed it for days, barely sleeping, watching its futile movements inside its glass prison until it died. That was when Even learned about death. Surely it was the greatest mystery of all, he thought. Finally his life had a goal. He would learn the secrets of death.

Fate and destiny didn't fit into Even's world, but by some strange chance he ended up as an apprentice to Ansem the Wise. It was a cold winter that year.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"And what if you fail?" she asked him frantically, clasping at the threadbare fabric of his coat. He pulled out of her grasp, gazing harshly into her eyes.

"I will never die, because _I will never fail._" That was the last time he saw her. He found the ring two days later, buried in the snow.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Darkness held an endless fascination for Even, because it was the first step toward death. Xehanort also intrigued him, like a puzzle to be taken apart and put back together in new and interesting ways. Even treated his new obsessions as experiments worthy of all his life's effort.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
He failed, for the first time.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"What will you call yourself?" the man with the golden eyes asked.

"Vexen. I shall begin my research immediately."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
He watched as ice curled like pale frigid vines across the snow-white skin of his hand.

His lips curved in a smile.

"Fascinating."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
There were twelve others like him. It became a tradition that the new members were greeted with a black coat and an examination by number IV. Vexen discovered VIII's element when several of his most precious chemicals reacted after the man touched them. And XII was another problem, poking around and ionizing his solutions with the electricity on her fingertips. Eventually, Vexen just gave up the whole business, passing them on to Lexaeus. Number V saw the frost creeping across Vexen's temples and silently obliged.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Vexen realized suddenly, in the middle of a particularly tedious experiment, that he had already succeeded in his greatest experiment. Death was infinitely more boring than he had ever thought it would be.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Number XI came to him once, all half-concealed smiles and veiled eyes like nightshade. Vexen didn't trust him (although that was no change).

"They say you're the scientist."

"What do you want?" Vexen had no patience for neophytes.

XI stretched out his hands. A scythe appeared in one, and a bouquet of pink roses in the other. The man leaned against one of Vexen's examination tables, his scythe like a deadly flower at his side. Vexen had once read of plants that lived in the deepest tropical jungles and fed on insects that wandered into their hungry mouths. XI reminded him of those plants.

"Don't you know it's all pointless? Nature has no need of science. It has accomplished nothing."

"Do not speak of things you don't understand!" Vexen snapped. Ice began to creep up the roses' petals like cool glass.

The pink-haired man smiled. "You should tell yourself that."

Vexen threw a beaker at his head, but the man was already gone. It hit the wall and shattered into a hundred pieces, shimmering like ice on the floor.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"I'm intrigued by your choice of test subjects." Zexion appeared without a sound from the shadows, only seen and heard when he wished to be. The smaller man stood by Vexen's side, examining the form that lay on the table.

"He will soon be complete."

Zexion took a strand of the subject's silver hair in his gloved fingers. "Impressive. He is nearly exactly like the original."

"He is better than the original. He is perfect."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
They were all useless idiots! Lexaeus and Zexion, who sat idle when they knew their superiority was being threatened. Sora, because he could not see the lies cast upon him by the witch-girl. Even the Superior, because he had not seen that all of this would happen. Vexen felt betrayed and cheated. He was the only one, it seemed, who still remembered what the Organization was striving for.

I must take this into my own hands and right this foolish charade.

He could only hope that Roxas's memories were strong enough.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The betrayal came without warning. Fire, ever the enemy of ice--how could he not have expected it?"

"Now you can tell me I don't respect my elders."

The first time Vexen died it seemed like he was watching his whole life unfold through a dusty, cracked microscope. His graduation certificate, his favorite coffee, the smell of her perfume, a firefly in a jar. He had felt as though a vacuum had opened in his mind, sucking it all away.

Now he could think of nothing at all.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"He was a fool," Larxene said sharply, crossing her legs as she lounged on the couch. Marluxia took a book from one of the shelves (the faded lettering on its cover read Macbeth) and turning to face her. His hair always reminded her of rose petals; it was kind of disgusting.

"He trusted too much in something that he himself was defying." He opened the book, leaning against the arm of the couch. "Well, he should have expected I would have him killed. Ice always gives way to Spring."

"Poetic justice," Larxene said, and they laughed.


	13. In the Stars

Axel didn't believe in fate. In fact, there were a lot of things he didn't believe in. He couldn't, because as much as he thought the Superior was full of shit sometimes, he knew that there was a point to what Xemnas taught them. It had taken some time for him to really understand that Ael was gone--dead--and that Axel was all that was left. His memories of his other life were hazy, but sometimes in the hazy realm between sleep and wakening he could see the red glow of fire and hear a child's laughter.

Axel was something of a renegade among renegades. He had been enlisted into joining the Organization when he had been lost and wandering, delirious on half-remembered moments and broken promises. He had been weak, and it was easy for Xaldin's promising words to have him throw in with the group. Yet now he finally realized the folly; twelve lost souls could not help one another find themselves. The supposed goal of the Organization was to find a way for them to retrieve their lost hearts. But Axel didn't believe it; he could see the greed in the elders' faces, the craving for power and the thirst to control and manipulate others.

Trust, hope, mercy, sadness. Axel knew the words yet could not understand their meaning. He lived for no rule but his own. The Organization was a pit of carnivores; allies turned against each other, whispered words and secrets forged in black-cloaked rooms. It was a thrilling game to watch. So Axel carefully built his reputation with deception and mocking smiles, careless gestures and an attitude to suit his element. He knew they saw him as a fool, a hot-tempered idiot playing both sides and playing for profits. But what they didn't know was Axel's single most impressive talent. He could look at a man and see the measure of his person. He shot his mouth off, while at the same time being ever-watchful. His eyes missed nothing--no twitch of muscle nor betrayal of tone or gesture. He could see beneath the underneath, read the motives within motives. He knew he had more to fear from the obscured gaze of Zexion than any other. He saw Vexen's weakness in his anger, his thirst for understanding and mathematical thinking making him forget reality. There was something animalistic and scary about Xaldin's manner, and a gentleness in Demyx's music that could be exploited. Larxene and Marluxia, too haughty for their own good, too sure of their abilities.

But then there was Roxas, whom he didn't understand at all. Maybe that was why Axel found himself drawn to the boy, watching him like a mother watches a reckless child. There was no calculated treachery in the boy's eyes, no feigned emotion or hidden hope. Nothing at all. He was a puzzle to be solved, a link to the Keyblade Master, a step in understanding the mysteries of the heart. And in time he found the impossible happening; he let down his flame-built hackles and put himself at the boy's mercy.

Axel had never believed in the future, either. His only concern was the moment, because to a creature that didn't exist there could be only one fate. But after he met Roxas, he realized he could defy his fate. He looked forward to what tomorrow would bring. And that was enough to break him away from the Organization, to seek the friend he had known and lost. In the end, he understand that a Nobody was not doomed to a half-life. He cast away his title of "VIII", and when the time came to let go, he looked to meet his friend in the time that awaited them.


	14. The Colors of Halloween

_Yellow, brown, red, silver. There were memories in those colors. Two shades of blue, violet, sea-green. But they were not real, and as Naminé used them to form shapes on the blank pages of her memory-tablet, she felt both happy and sad at having to add those colors that didn't belong to a picture that was more real than crayons could ever create._

As Sora walked past the slate-colored buildings of Halloweentown, he suddenly remembered a night on Destiny Islands, the first time he and his friends had ever gone trick-or-treating without their parents. They had all met at Kairi's house, since hers was in the middle of all of theirs, and had to restrain their energy while they posed for pictures from the parents.

Riku got to stand in the back since he was the tallest, and he proudly showed off his cardboard sword and knight's costume and slashed at invisible monsters. Kairi was a princess dressed in pink with a plastic tiara, but when Riku said he would save her from the dragon she said she would just hit it with her shoe and run away. Sora had wanted to be a knight, but since Riku was going to be one first he settled for a pirate, and he got a sword anyway so it was okay. His mom had put some fake blood on his shirt with paint, and he scared little Naminé, who thought he had really gotten hurt. She was a little fairy, dressed in a sparkly white dress, and she waved her wand at him and said she was curing his boo-boos.

After that they walked from house to house and got lots of candy. Sometimes people would ask them to sing a song or do something funny to get candy. Riku and Sora had pretend fights with their swords, while Kairi jumped up and down and cheered for both of them and Naminé smiled nervously and peered behind her hands, worried that they would get hurt. Kairi would sing a cute little song about three little pumpkins and then curtsy at the end as though she was in a big play. Naminé was a little shy, but she was encouraged by her friends, and so, blushing just a little, she would recite a little poem she had written about a ghost that didn't have any friends but then met a family of goblins and was happy. The first time she did Sora said that her poem was too sad for trick-or-treating and she felt silly. The next few times she changed it just a little so it talked about the goblins' adventures instead.

Riku and Sora had a contest to see who could get the most candy, and Sora won but it was only because he took two handfuls one time instead of just one. Kairi said she thought Sora won, but only because Riku kept trying to scare her. Naminé kept the lollipops but gave them the rest of her candy. 

They were almost back to Kairi's house when Naminé started to cry. Kairi was patting her back gently and told Sora and Riku that she'd lost her wand. Sora said he would find it and he and Riku went looking. Eventually Sora found it lying on the ground and gave it back to Naminé. She smiled and said thanks and held it tight after that. Sora said that it was a pirate's job to find treasure.


	15. Playing for Keeps

It was certainly an unsavory sort of place, he thought. The air in the crowded bar was thick with the scent of alcohol, cigar smoke, and cheap perfume. The voices of those inside conglomerated into a loud unintelligable rumble, intermingled with shouts and whistles for the serving girls. A man with eyes red from too much drink stumbled into his path, and he sidestepped quickly to avoid being knocked over. There was a nasty-looking brawl in the corner; a red-haired girl winked at him as she passed, carrying a tray of drinks. Luxord smirked; it was perfect. Oh, how he was going to enjoy this mission.   
He made his way to the corner of the bar and noticed someone watching him. It was a man, a rogue in appearance. His tangled mess of dark hair was interspersed with colorful coins and trinkets, and his beard was braided into two forks. He was leaning back contentedly in his seat (or perhaps just drunkenly), his feet crossed in front of him as he sipped at the pewter tankard. He squinted at Luxord in one-eyed surveillance as the other man approached and sat opposite him.

"Nice jacket you got there, mate," the man said, and a few golden teeth flashed in the murky light. "Reckon it cost a fair amount of gold, eh?"

"You could say that," said Luxord, handing over some coins to a serving girl for a pint of amber-colored rum. It was merely for show; no amount of alcohol could intoxify a Nobody.

"Now I understand that Tortuga is a hit with the locals," the strange man continued amiably, "but what is a great grand toff like yourself doing in such a scallywaggin' little establishment?" Luxord chuckled, pulling out a pack of cards from the pocket of his jacket.

"It really is quite a long story, I regret to say." The man clearly perked up at this, sitting up straight in his chair and looking at Luxord with eager eyes.

"Ooh, I love stories, mate! No worries there," he said, and pointed at himself with a grimy finger. "Captain Jack Sparrow at your service, savvy?"

Captain of what? Luxord wondered. He began to shufffle the cards with nimble fingers, and arranged them in neat stacks on the wooden tabletop.

"However, I'll need some incentive to recount my tale. How about a game of cards?"

"Blackjack?"

"If you wish."

"What's the wager?"

Luxord smiled, resting his arm casually against the chair arm and crossing his legs. It was best to get comfortable. "If you win, I tell you my whole sorry tale. If I win," -- he saluted Jack with a tilt of his head -- "you must give me your most precious possession."

He watched the other man's face carefully as he considered the offer. Jack was staring at some space above them, his forehead furrowed and a slight frown on his face. Finally he placed both palms against the table in finality.

"Deal."

The blond-haired man shuffled the cards expertly, then dealt them for he and Jack, and settled back into a position of ease.

He stroked the shiny plastic back of the Jack of Spades, grinning at the utter irony of the situation. Interesting that a man would give up everything, including his heart, for a fleeting fantasy, when all along Luxord had had nothing to offer in return. He didn't need to keep his end of the bargain.

Because Luxord never lost.


	16. Worth It

After a while, Olette stopped caring about Hayner and Pence finding out and making fun of her. She didn't care if they saw the way her mouth quirked into a secretive grin at the mention of Fuu's name, or how she never walked home with them and wouldn't say why (the all-girl's private school down the road let out in fifteen minutes and she had to wait).

People said that relationships were all about communication, but Olette found that funny because her favorite moments were the times they sat and watched the sunset, with no words exchanged between them. And Fuu didn't talk much anyway, but Olette was okay with that because there were better ways than words to communicate, and Olette thought she was beginning to understand.

_You look cute in your uniform, did I ever tell you that?_ Olette said as she breathed into Fuu's hair (and it smelled like raspberries today). 

Olette didn't care if people thought it was wrong, if they got strange stares from the other girls, because with Fuu's arms around her she couldn't possibly imagine what could be so bad about it. She couldn't remember being happier.

And Fuu's smile was worth everything.


	17. it will end no other way

**(V)**

Every cause has an effect. This is absolute. Birth and death are a constant cycle, the ultimate destiny for every element that comes into being. Birth has no meaning without death, and death cannot exist without life. 

There is a thought behind every action, a meaning for every word. Emotions and logic are intertwined, inseparable. Every movement causes force.

I had known this for my entire adult life. I only am reminded of this now, as my defeat seems imminent. We were scientists. We valued reason and practical understanding above all else. We looked down on those who so foolishly had dreams without attempting to achieve them. We believed we were infallible. 

Our heresy, though we did not call it that, began as a theoretical experiment. The death of the heart, of that which ultimately motivates irrational and irresponsible decisions--we wished to see how far we could push the limits of reality. 

I only realize now the fear that motivated us. We had died a thousand little deaths because of our hearts. We wished to never face the ultimate death. 

And we accomplished nothing. To exist without feeling, to be empty of meaning, was a worse fate than death. I thought I understood the others. I watched, quietly observed, saw those who could not accept the truth, and tried to claim a false heart. I believed every heart was weak, that normal humans could be manipulated to give up their most sacred possession, like we had deluded ourselves into doing.

I was a fool. I could not see how I hurt others with my selfishness, and how even my eyes could miss this most crucial truth.

Riku is not afraid. I see it in his eyes now as my vision fades. 

Even at the last, I cannot give up this false sense of pride I have clung to. I hold no delusions of what awaits me now. 

I will no longer run away.


	18. In Tens

Selphie loved to jump rope. As her tiny wrists deftly twisted the scarlet cord, she would close her eyes and count softly to herself, forgetting everything else but the steady rhythm of her feet and her hands moving the rope. 

"Ten--"

_A small girl with green eyes like glass peeked out from a feather-covered hat. A long pearl necklace hung down to her waist, and her little hands tried to hold a dress around her body that belonged on a much larger woman. _

_"Look, Mommy! I'm just like you!" She posed dramatically, looking like a doll in oversized clothing. Her mother laughed and started to wipe a smudge of red lipstick from Selphie's face._

"Twenty--"

_"I love you," the boy said, and she felt her heart thumping pitifully in her chest. His hair was the color of chocolate and her skin tingled where his hands had touched. She closed her eyes and let herself be engulfed by infinity._

"Thirty--"

_...And she was laughing through her tears as the ring disappeared beneath the shimmering gray foam of the tide._

"Forty--"

_She smiled to herself as she watched Kairi, Riku, and Sora happily walking together in the marketplace. Kairi's head was against Riku's shoulder, red hair streaked with silver, and her hand clasped Sora's arm. Some things never change, she thought, as she bought a new school tie for her son._

"Fifty--"

_"Do you love her?" Her tone was harsh as she regarded her son--a young man now, she reminded herself--with a critical eye. He blushed beneath his freckles and nodded. Selphie punched him lightly in the arm. "Then what are you waiting for, boy? Marry the girl!"_

"Sixty--"

_The sand formed little craters beneath her feet as she ran along the shore of the island she had played on as a child. She felt like a little girl again, only now her hair was longer and her legs were quicker._

_"Slow down, woman!" her husband panted behind her. "You're not young anymore!"_

_She looked back, eyes mischievous. "I may be old in years but I'm young in spirit!"_

"Seventy--"

_Some days she just needed peace and quiet. The old woman sat on her porch watching twilight burn across the sky. The only sounds were the distant hum of the sea and the wind whispering around her face. She grinned and thought what an improvement it was over her grandchild's screams._

"Eighty--"

_"Mom, you're not young anymore!" Her son was a nice man but a fool, she thought with annoyance, always badgering her to go to the doctor for some afflection or another. _

_"I think I can handle carrying my own suitcase," she snapped, clutching the bright pink bundle against her bosom. "You children are so lazy." Her son watched after her with an incredulous look on his face. She giggled in childish delight as she threw the empty suitcase on her bed._

"Ninety--"

_The woman's face was wrinkled and brown from sunlight and hard work. She huddled into pastel-colored dresses and was nearly as small as she had been as a young girl. But her eyes were the same brilliant green, alight with intelligence and enthusiasm. She wasn't too old yet for a little fun._

"One hundred--"

Selphie stumbled as her jump rope was caught by her foot. She breathed in deeply for a moment, trying to shake the strange thoughts she'd had in her near-daze. Then she laughed. 

"One hundred! A new record!" She went off to find Tidus and Wakka to tell them.


	19. Ashes to Ashes

Zexion had never liked funerals. They always seemed too full of pomp and forced emotions, as though the Church was selling heartbreak to the mourners. "Tearful reminiscence for the price of your tears." 

A funeral was always the talk of the town, attendants in black cloaks forming a line of melancholy behind the hearse. The coffin would be unloaded, white flowers a stark anomoly. He knew when the procession was coming, because he had to shut his bedroom window when the sobs got too bothersome. The boy had never understood all the fuss. Everyone died, didn't they know? And then the war happened, and no one bothered with funerals anymore. 

One day, Axel and Zexion were on a mission to a small and relatively unknown world. They chanced upon a funeral. The crowd was so large they could not pass through the street, so both silently agreed to wait until the affair was over.

"Such a sad occasion," an older gentleman nearby them said. "He was so young. Had his whole life ahead of him."

"Don't we all at some point?" Zexion replied, watching with mild interest as the coffin was laid into the ground. "And yet few ever make something of their lives."

A woman nearby gasped in anger. "Don't speak such things at a funeral!"

Zexion shrugged. The clergywoman finished her long and tiresome eulogy, and he and Axel finally moved on. As they passed the black-garbed crowd, Axel gestured toward the dead man's tombstone. 

"They're doing it all wrong," he said. "Earth swallows the bones and leaves them for the worms." Zexion regarded his comrade with narrowed eyes. "And what would you suggest, Axel?"

The red haired man grinned. "If it's eternal life they're after, fire is the way to go. It's the source of death and light, but also rebirth."

Zexion turned his back on the graveyard and continued up the hill. "Everything turns to ash in the end."

"Why do you think our coats are black?" Axel called after him. The two men disappeared into the darkening night.


	20. No Roses Bloom For Thee

Aerith was six when she watched her mother plant a garden. Ifalna's hair was long and smelled like pink lemonade and pine and a distant memory of the sea. Her bare hands were brown with dirt as she scooped a line of holes into the cool earth. She took from a packet at her side a collection of tiny white pods and slipped them tenderly into the earth.

"Mommy, what color will they be?" She poked at a half-covered seed with a chubby finger.

"Well, I don't know. But I hope they are white." 

One day the world and the roses were consumed by darkness.

It was a long time before Aerith saw roses again. In Traverse Town the only flowers she saw were at funerals. Then she met the key-bearer, and let a small amount of hope bloom in her heart. 

And Aerith bought roses of every color to plant in her garden, but the white were always her favorite.

Summer brought memories of her mother, but autumn brought a stranger with eyes like irises and a smile like a thorn. The town had felt unusually restricting, like a weed with choking roots. One night she could barely stand it, and went out to walk and breathe the fresh air. Before she left she grabbed a basket of cut roses she had intended to sell the next day. Selling flowers at night seemed foolish, but she needed the money and business always took her mind off things.

She looked up at the stars but they seemed static and somehow false, like cheap jewels. She felt her heart quicken as footsteps approached, and a figure stepped into the the illumination of a lamp nearby.

The man was dark, not only in clothing but in essence, and she could feel her hands tighten on the basket handle. The man continued walking, and perhaps would have gone right through her, had she not spoken.

"Flowers, sir?" 

He stopped and a chuckle escaped from under the hood.

"What brings the white lily into the spider-arm of the night?" The man moved his fingers and a pink sakura blossom appeared in his hand, which he stretched out to her. 

"Wh-who are you?" Aerith asked, trying to calm herself and ashamed at the fear in her voice.

The man raised black-gloved hands to his face and lowered his hood. His skin was rosebud-pale, his hair rough and thick over his shoulders, his eyes burning-blue. He had the countenance and gestures of a courtier, and she wondered briefly whether his world had also been lost.

"I? I am both actor and chorus, Venus and Mars, nothing and everything, life and death. But I am known as Marluxia, though you won't remember come day." He tucked the sakura flower behind her ear.

"I don't understand," she replied, fearing to look in his eyes for the deadened hollows she would find there.

"I see you are selling roses. I am a planter as well, though I have had little luck in gardening. And roses are the worst of all; I suppose I hate them more than any other; though the thorn may bite the petal is easy to crush.

Aerith flinched at his tone of voice, and thrust the basket at him. "Take them. I can always grow more."

The man-shadow called Marluxia smiled. "You can keep the white ones, my dear. They reek of light."

His words came true. Aerith awoke to a soft bed in Hollow Bastion, the death-courtesan having disappeared with the night.


	21. A New Name

The nightmares started on the first night in Traverse Town. He woke, gasping, still seeing images of black clouds of Heartless swarming over the land. He had tried to fight, clutched his gunblade so tightly he could barely feel his shaking hands. "Take the children and run!" A woman's voice and the crack of a whip, before she disappeared into the crowd. He saw a girl who'd often followed him around at the orphanage, Yuffie, running toward the invaders with a knife in hand. He grabbed her about the waist, ignoring her screams of protest, and ran. He had no choice. No choice, when the pilot grasped the back of his shirt and lifted him into the ship before the Heartless reached them.

He was helpless, safe in this strange place while his home and people he loved were gone. He wiped his arm over his eyes and lay there on the blanket, listening to a distant baby's cries.

The next few days became a blur of restless nights and silent afternoons. He didn't talk to anyone, but gave Yuffie his food to quiet her crying. She followed him around like a thin, dark-haired ghost. He didn't think he could eat, anyway. The survivors were noisy around him, yelling or crying or trying to find their families in the crowd.

"You're alone here, too?" He looked up, to see wide green eyes staring at him. The girl smiled softly, the expression strange in a place like this, and sat down next to him. "I'm from Radiant Garden."

"So are we." Yuffie shyly glanced over his shoulder. "I'm Yuffie, and he's Squall."

"Call me Leon."

She took his hand, and years later he would never know why he let her. "I'll stay with you."


	22. What Makes a Human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crossover with Persona 4.

Because we lack hearts, we have begun to observe the effects of captivity and isolation on selected inhabitants from a world we have encountered.

**Despair**  
The subject: a middle-aged man, apparently a keeper of the peace by profession. He is strong and fights back, but no match for the combined strength of III and XII. He pounds on the bars of his cage, demanding to see his daughter. So many demands, as if he thinks he still has power here. XII's shocks eventually quiet him down. Over the next few days, he does not sleep, but alternates between raging incoherently at his captors, or whimpering pitifully in the corner of the cage. I was able to hear him last night: "Nanako," he repeated. We will learn no more from this subject. Life broke him long before we ever touched him.

**Emptiness**  
The subject: A younger man than the first, captured by VII and XI. He laughs the entire time he is taken to his cage. "It's all gone," he says, swaying, and breaks into laughter again. I approach to observe him, and the subject turns his head so I look directly into his eyes. They are dark and lined with shadows. I am instantly curious. There is nothing in his eyes that can be called human. I wonder if my eyes look the same, and for a moment, so quick I must have imagined it, I am afraid.

**Hope**  
The subject: An elderly woman, quiet as V brings her to me. "What a strange place and strange people," she says. "You must be a scientist." This is about her, not me. Never about me. 

"You are here for observation," I tell her.

"Me? Goodness, what do you possibly expect to learn?" I have no answer for her or for myself.

She hums to herself a little as she sits. 

"Aren't you frightened?" I ask.

I do not have the time or inclination to include her response here. All I will say is that I am left shaken. I did not believe that hope truly existed. Now, I do not know what to believe.

Perhaps all of us were wrong.


	23. Home

The Destiny Islands are quiet. Almost too quiet, Sora thinks, after all the places he has been to. There are no Heartless here for him to fight, only tests and beach parties and hot nights. At first, the dreams wake him, dreams where he runs while chasing shadows just out of sight. 

It's hard to adjust. His mother greets him home the first day as if it hasn't really been two years. He hugs her tightly, and she smiles at his sudden display of affection, though she'll never understand how glad he is to see her again. And the weight of all that he's seen and been through is something only he, Kairi, and Riku can carry. It brings them closer together, though he feels an invisible distance between himself and everyone else they've known their entire lives.

Going back to school is strange. Sora almost would have slept in if Kairi hadn't called him. They find Riku waiting for them halfway to school, pacing restlessly.

"I needed to get out of the house," he says. Riku cut his hair: now it barely reaches his chin, and it makes him look so much older. Sora feels the anxiety himself. It's hard to sit still, after getting so used to the constant motion of traveling between worlds and searching for the keyholes. Class seems to go on forever, and the superficial concerns of ordinary teenagers are so far removed from the issues the three of them have dealt with.

After a month, he no longer wakes in a cold sweat, imaging Heartless creeping up on him as he sleeps. He no longer expects to run into an Organization member as he rounds a corner. 

He's sitting with Kairi and Riku on the trunk of the paopu tree when he suddenly says, "Hey Riku, I'll race you to the other end of the island."

Riku looks up at him. The last time they said those words was an endless distance ago. There is more between them now. Their friendship is different; the knowledge of their past conflict brings them closer.

"Winner gets to share a paopu with Kairi," Riku says, and he winks at Kairi. She laughs and punches him in the shoulder. 

"I'll be the judge," she says, and they all go to their makeshift starting line. "On your mark--"

Life is simple and sweet.


	24. Return to Sender

_Squall is dead._ This is what he thinks when he reads her letter, pink stationary folded up so neatly, and he breathes in the lingering scent of her perfume. But the envelope is addressed _To Squall_, and Leon is not the man she fell in love with.

Squall was reckless and arrogant and cold. Rinoa, with her passion and free spirit, was the only one who could really look him in the eye and accept him for the way he was. But the Heartless came, and his parents were slaughtered and Quistis lay bleeding in his arms and everything was ice and dark and children crying (it's why they've stayed together, Yuffie and Aerith and Leon and Cid, because they have no one else). It was not just his name that had changed.

But Rinoa survived, despite how he had pushed her from his thoughts (he understands now what has driven Aerith and Cloud apart). He cannot remember her face, only a vague description and a feeling of warmth and feathers.

He tucks the letter away, because it is not meant for him. If Aerith notices his silence today, she says nothing.


	25. Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crossover with Tale of Tales game The Path.

You close the door and awake in a forest. The smell of damp earth and dead leaves makes you sneeze. You stand up, disoriented, and look around. The trees look like bars of a cage in the twilight, surrounding you, keeping you inside.

You walk. Objects lie like abandoned toys along your path: a rusted bathtub, a stone well holding infinity or a dream. There's an old gramophone like something out of a movie, buried underneath a pile of leaves.

Whatever world this is, it's a strange one. And something about the quiet puts you on edge, makes you aware of your breath and the beat of your heart. Once, you think you see a white figure darting between the trees. There's a distant echo of girlish laughter. But maybe it was all in your mind.

After walking for hours or days (time feels all the same here), you come across a playground. It looks like no children have played here for a long time. Everything is broken or rusted, paint peeling off like dead skin.

The swing creaks, and that's when you notice the girl. She's sitting there, half in shadow, moving the swing back and forth. You swear out surprise, but steel your nerves and approach her. The girl looks up, slowly. Her hair and lips are black, her face powdered white. She wears a leg brace and a blank expression.

"I'm fifteen," she says. Her eyes are like holes in her pale face. You're fifteen, too.

"What is this place? Who are you?" Your voice doesn't quite seem to work. Something about this girl is unsettling. Wrongness lingers about her like a cloak.

"Name's Ruby," she says. She takes a drag on her cigarette. "Want a smoke?"

"Uh, no thanks," you reply.

Ruby throws down the butt of the one she just finished and takes out a new cigarette. Her actions are mechanical, as if she's been in this playground for an eternity, filling her lungs with filth.

"You can't fight what you are," she says. "I can feel the darkness in you, just like it was in me." For a moment, she looks down at the brace around her leg.

"You don't know anything about me," you reply, quietly and with venom.

Laughter escapes the girl's mouth like bullets from a shotgun. "You can't hide here. The stories were wrong. The wolf will get you only because you go looking for it." She holds out her still-burning cigarette for you to try. You can see the smudge of her lipstick. "Might as well give in."

"Been there, done that." Never again.

Ruby shrugs. "Everyone will crash and burn eventually." She stops, and for a brief moment, a look of immense sadness crosses her features. Then she looks at you again, but her smooth, young face is replaced by a twisted mask of scars, burns, and cancerous decay. You jerk back and curse, but her face is back to normal in a blink's span. Which one is the illusion and which one the reality, you'd rather not know.

"What the hell are you?"

Once again, her expression is sad. "I tried to warn you," she says. "We're all the same on the inside. We all go off the path and end up lost in the woods."

You've heard enough. You run away from the girl, from that playground, as fast as you can. You run until you crouch over, panting, heartbeat like the pulse of a thousand drums in your ears.

And then a voice pulls you into the light, and you wake up in Hollow Bastion.


	26. Fault Line

"Do you trust me?" Axel asked. He studied Roxas's face, his green eyes so intense that Roxas couldn't look at them for long. Axel's smile was as sharp as a knife blade, but his gaze was serious.

Roxas didn't know what to think anymore, or who to believe. This leather-coated man came to his life like an agent of chaos, talking of a past that Roxas couldn't remember. 

"You're crazy," Roxas said. He looked back at the hideout that he shared with his friends, who had become just as strange and distant as the rest of this town. He looked back at Axel and shrugged. "But maybe I'm crazy, too."

Axel shifted from where he leaned against the side of a building. "You'll come with me?" Roxas was surprised to hear the hesitation in his voice.

"Looks like I don't really have a choice."

\---

Roxas woke with cold stone beneath his head and a sky full of stars above him. He remembered darkness all around him, and then falling through emptiness. 

"Sleeping Beauty finally woke up," Axel said from nearby. 

"Don't call me that," Roxas muttered, as he got to his feet.

The night was cold, and Roxas shivered as he followed Axel out of the alley. He blinked against the strong glare of neon lights and the strong smell of smoked meat. 

"Where are we?" he asked, as Axel walked confidently ahead. 

"Just a place called Traverse Town." He glanced back at Roxas. "We can't stay long, but I know a place for tonight."

He led them to a cheap motel in the next district, but the room was clean and the bed looked soft. Roxas felt wide awake, restless energy making him move around the room.

Axel watched him silently, arms crossed. Roxas stopped abruptly and looked at him.

"Why are we here?" he asked.

The tall man sighed. "I told you already, we're just stopping--"

"Not that!" Roxas said, louder than he intended. "I mean--" He gestured away from them, at a loss for the right words. "Why did it have to be me?" Axel had told him about his virtual prison, explained that people meant to keep him trapped in that false reality. 

"Everyone wants something to do with me. But how can this be happening? I don't _understand._ You say you know me, but--" He looked at Axel, who gazed at him with the same heavy, unreadable expression, almost as if he was trying to tell Roxas without words. 

"You're tired," Axel said finally. "That trip probably messed with your head."

Roxas felt the beginning of a headache starting. 

"I'm not tired! Don't change the subject!" He looked around the room again, anywhere but at Axel. "For all I know, I really _have_ gone crazy. Maybe you're not even real."

"I'm as real as you are," Axel said quietly. He turned away and opened the door to the balcony, looking back to signal for Roxas to follow. The room had begun to feel stuffy and hot, so the chilly breeze was a relief. He wondered if Axel just wanted a moment to think.

"All you need to know is that people are chasing us," Axel said, "people who want to hurt you."

"But _why_\--?" Roxas started, but Axel cut him off. 

"Not _now_, all right? I'll tell you soon, if you still want to know, it's just a lot to explain." As he spoke, he removed his gloves, his fingers pale in the lantern light. As he looked at Axel standing partway in shadow and light, Roxas was aware of how thin he was, how tired his eyes looked. He had changed completely from the mocking man that Roxas first met during the tournament. Not for the first time, Roxas wondered how old Axel was.

Axel turned toward him again, and this time he walked closer, slowly, watching Roxas carefully as if expecting him to run. But Roxas couldn't move, couldn't call his muscles despite his mind protesting at Axel's proximity. But all he felt was the light touch of Axel's hands against both sides of his face, and the weight of his unwavering gaze.

"I want you to remember," Axel said, the softness in his voice too much, too strange. And Roxas somehow knew that he was used to Axel being this close. He heard, as if over a great distance, Axel's voice whispering, _Please_ in the dark. Axel's touch was unbearably warm against his skin, and he knew he'd felt that heat before.

Axel moved away, suddenly, to go back inside, leaving Roxas shivering in the cold night air. But Roxas had seen enough in his eyes to know that Axel would do anything he wished. He would have his answers, one way or another.


	27. Vanishing

The night brings terrors.

_There is no ground or sky, only darkness and a girl standing with her back to him. Between them is emptiness, the silence like a thick weight suspended. One more step and he would disappear. She is beyond his reach._

_"Ansem," she says quietly. She turns, but her eyes remain in shadow, revealing only the thin curve of her smile and red hair. He wants to shout that she's wrong, but there's a part of him that will be held by it. Naming the cancer doesn't make it any less deadly._

_"Kairi, I'm here!" he says instead. "I can help you!"_

_Her cruel laughter turns into a sob. "How can you do that?" Her pointing finger accuses. "You can't even save yourself!"_

_The princess has no mercy. Her words carve into his heart, like Shadows would._

_"Riku?" He falls, or perhaps he rises. Direction has no meaning here._

Calming hands smooth his sweat-streaked hair. He pulls her close, saying nothing, because he no longer needs to. She understands. The battle is over, but the nightmares linger, for both of them.


	28. Emergence

Kairi's knee itches from the heat. The air conditioning system in the classroom doesn't quite work right, something about budget cuts, and Kairi has to look at what the teacher wrote on the blackboard because she missed what Ms. Fields said about their journal assignment. She can feel sweat between her shoulder blades.

"Write about your earliest memory using the five senses. Be as descriptive as possible."

Kairi thinks of Aphrodite, who rose fully grown out of the ocean. She doodles a scallop shell on the corner of her paper, and a little stick-figure version of herself standing astride the shell. Curlicue waves in smooth graphite. Aphrodite would know something about having no past. Kairi pretends she doesn't see Riku and Sora giving her looks out of the corners of their eyes whenever they talk about their parents.

She imagines a castle of coral and seaweed under the waves. Maybe pearls grow into mermaids if enough time goes by. This won't do.

She closes her eyes and thinks back. Standing with her feet in the sea and her hand stretched out to catch raindrops. Each drop a tiny, transparent pearl. The sky and sea are slices of mirror-image gray. Everything connects. 

_Everything connects. _

_Naminé spends her days drawing birds. It becomes easy to forget the white walls all around her. Bird bones are hollow, easily broken. That is what Larxene says when she takes the paper from Naminé's hands to have a look. _

_"Give them enough space to stretch their wings and they think they're free," Larxene says. She doesn't tear up the page, as Naminé expected. Instead, she snatches a pencil and draws a box around the bird. A crude sketch of walls._

_"Don't waste our time, witch." The silence after Larxene leaves is enough to drown in. Her knee itches beneath her colorless dress._

_The first time she leaves the castle, she stands in the rain, as if the pure force of it could make her heart real._


End file.
